


First Meeting

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's keith. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22748677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Lance confronts an Emperor about a funny little thing called MORALS. Meanwhile, a certain Galra waits for him in a corner.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 15
Kudos: 288





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: A royal marriage is not fun times  
> Also, how is 'Altean Adam' not a tag yet? I had to MAKE it. We have failed. Just saying...

Lance tremulously descends the steps and offers Lord Yorak his arm. The young lord accepts with equal caution. Lance hears coos and disgruntled murmurs in equal measure. He leans over ever so slightly. “They’re going to be like that all day. It’s best if you pay them no mind.” The hand on his arm tightens. Lance wonders if it’s anger or fear. He assumes both. He’d reach out and see, but he doesn’t want to intrude. The kit’s thoughts, at least, belong to him alone. Speaking of which… “If you feel _any_ of these people try to touch your mind, let me know. I shall make them regret it.”

“Thank you,” the lord whispers, barely audible. Lance simply nods. He doesn’t trust himself to speak after hearing the tremble in that voice. This kit is not ready to carry the burden of a crown. Then again, neither is he. And he was _born_ with one, for quiznak's sake!

A few turns later, at the end of a hall, the double doors to the drawing room open. A hand falls on Lance’s shoulder, in between him and the “man” he’ll be “courting” for the next merciless varga or two. 

“Crown Prince Lancel,” Emperor Zarkon murmurs. “If it’s alright, I’d like to speak with you alone for a few minutes.” Lance nods, pretends he has a choice. He turns to the lord.

“Forgive me. Be careful.” The Galra nods, and Lance carefully slips away from Lord Yorak, who immediately falls in beside Captain Shirogane without a word, tail twisting around the captain's ankle.

Everyone else enters the drawing room, the doors close, and Lance is alone with the Emperor.

“This won’t be so bad,” Zarkon promises. “He’s a good man-”

“Kit. Lord Yorak is still a kit. He’s not even full-grown! With all due respect, did you think I wouldn’t be able to tell? Do you know what I am expected to do to him tonight? What he is expected to endure?” Lance struggles not to raise his voice. He and Zarkon are acquainted, but this man is an Emperor. “I admit I know little more of your people than how to kill them, but I know enough to know that he is too young for this!”

“You’re right. Lord Yorak has not yet had his first season.” Zarkon sighs, looks tired. “But he is of Altean age. He’s older than you, in fact. By almost a decaphoeb.”

“And you believe that makes it acceptable?” Lance folds his arms, shimmering cloak wrapping around his form. “It’s not. Not in the slightest.”

“It makes it a grey area, which is where your people and mine are residing until further notice. As you said yourself when we presented this arrangement, ‘Whatever it takes.’ I want us to achieve actual peace, and we need this to do it.” Zarkon sighs. “Listen. I’m not throwing him at you. I’m entrusting him _to_ you. My nephew has not had an easy life since my littermate passed. He is surprised by even the smallest act of kindness. That’s why I chose him. I trust you to nurture him and be kind to him. Give him the life that I cannot provide.”

Lance already planned to do these things, to the best of his ability. He’d planned to do them since he was a little boy dreaming of falling in love with a beautiful Altean girl. Things have changed since then, more than once, but Lance still plans to be a good spouse. A good man. The idea that he might be able to make a difference, even if only a little, makes it better. Just a bit.

He's aware the emperor is trying to manipulate him. It hardly matters.

“I never had any intention of doing otherwise. You’ve done well by my sister, and I will of course do the same for your nephew.” Zarkon smiles, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

“Thank you, Lance. Now, go hug your sister.” Lance grins, not needing anything more in the way of encouragement.

Allura meets him halfway, cheeks shimmering in her happiness, the soft scales glittering pink. She throws her slender arms around him, holding him close. “Oh, I’ve missed you!” she cries. “It’s been so long!”

“I know,” Lance mumbles into her soft hair. “By the stars I missed you.” Lance draws away after a few ticks, smiling to Prince Lotor.

“It’s been a long time, your Majesty.” Lotor offers his arm, and Lance grips it tight, an old, formal Galra greeting. Lance is untroubled by their cultural differences. He'd actually like to learn better.

“Too long, your Majesty. How's Romelle?"

She's doing better. I had just convinced my father to allow her to accompany us when she had an episode." Lotor's ears wilt as he pulls his wife closer. The former Altean alchemist's frailty is well-known. The prince manages a smile. "I'll pass along your well wishes. Perhaps it will help her. Overall, she is improving. Allura and I are taking good care of her, we promise."

"I should hope so. You've stolen both my sister and one of my dearest friends. You'd best make sure they're well taken care of. Did you receive my last correspondence about water conservation?”

“I did. However, Daibazaal has no need to conserve water in this matter. On our planet, it falls from the sky. I am of course grateful to you in any case.”

“Water falls from the-”

“Lancel.” Lance jumps, surprised to find his father just behind. “Please perform your princely duties.”

Lance’s lips curls. “Don’t say it like that. It’s disgusting.”

“Lancel-”

“Yes. I’m going.” Lance doesn’t bother to argue ethics with his father, even if he bothers to be angry. Lord Yorak is ‘of age by Altean standards.’ There is nothing to be done.

Anything for his people.

Lance cautiously approaches Lord Yorak, who’s leaning up against a wall looking unhappy and uncomfortable. “Lord Yorak.”

The Galra’s ears twitch nervously, but he says nothing. He gives a tiny bow of his head. Lance can feel Captain Shirogane’s eyes boring into him, daring him, practically begging him to do something objectionable. Lance bites his lip, deciding to try again.

“I... trust you find the Castle of Lions agreeable?”

“It’s very... bright.” Lord Yorak doesn’t seem thrilled. “There are no shadows anywhere... Nowhere to hide.”

“Yes. You won’t be assassinated.” The lord sighs. Lance has the sinking feeling that the lord himself wishes there were a shadow for him to hide in. “Listen... I know we’re strangers and... stuff... but-” Lance hesitates, grimacing at his stilted words. It's so much easier to be charming when there aren't any stakes. “I’ll do what I can to make your life comfortable here.”

“Yeah... here. Where my home is like another star in the sky.” Lance falters at the quiet sadness that overtakes the small Galra’s form. Silence stretches on and on for some time. Then, “Thank you, Crown Prince Lancel. I appreciate your kindness.”

The lord gives a small, cautious smile. He actually isn’t hard to look at. Lord Yorak has soft eyes when he wants.

“You don’t have to be so formal with me. Name’s Lance.” Lance offers his arm. The Galra looks at it in surprise before accepting his offer, gripping him just beneath the elbow. He seems pleased by the familiar greeting, ears perking a little. His tail twitches, almost curious as it brushes against Lance's ankle. It’s endearing.

“You can- You can call me Keith. It’s... what my family calls me.”

“Keith?” Lance cocks his head.

“Yeah. It’s the name my father gave me. He found it on his travels and liked it. When I gained my status, I was given a native name.”

“Gained your status?”

“My mother was appointed to be Emperor Zarkon’s advisor only a phoeb ago. Before that I was a soldier for two decaphoebs. I’m not much of a lord.” Lance narrows his eyes. So Emperor Zarkon has given him a stunted, newly appointed royal? Wasn't this kit meant to be his nephew? Why was he newly appointed? “Yes, I believe the emperor planned it too.”

"Nevermind. This entire arrangement is shady. You and I have more pressing concerns. The courtiers. Tonight, they will say many things. You will not like any of them."

"That I'm cuter and not as savage as they expected me to be?" Keith raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Among other things, yes. Ignore it. It won't be pleasant, but you won't have to endure it for long."

"'Among other things'?" Keith's eyes grow shadows.

"Ignore those too. We can discuss those things later, when we're alone..." Lance reaches out, gently taking the Galra's soft hand. The pads are cool and leathery, like cats' paws. The Galra tenses, not afraid, but ready to fight if he needs to. "You don't have to worry, Keith. I swear to you, I don't have any ill intentions toward you. I want to make sure your life here is as comfortable and pleasant as possible."

Lance takes a tiny step closer, so close that if he lowers his voice, no one but Keith and the ever-listening captain can hear. “Listen to me. We are pawns, you and I. Our marriage does not secure your safety. Fools or not, Alteans are quite skilled at combat, and you are not a friend in their eyes.”

“I know. Shiro will remain close for a few quintants, before he must return. And I am never unarmed, though I may not carry a weapon.” That feels as much like a threat as it does reassurance, but Lance hardly minds. He’d do the same, were their positions reversed. He meets those burning eyes as he draws back. They're beautiful.

“And now is when I introduce myself,” Captain Shirogane cuts in, extending an arm. “Shiro. Captain of the guard.” Behind Lance, Adam’s hurrying footsteps falter.

“Oh by the Ancients! Adam, they’re not going to eat you!” Lance gestures to the timid Altean. “My attendant, Adam.”

“Yes, we prefer to eat something with a little more meat on its bones,” Keith murmurs, inspecting his sharp black nails. “Well, I do. Shiro on the other hand…”

Keith smirks (an interesting development), and Lance follows his gaze. Shiro’s ears are perked in Adam’s direction, eyes lit with curiosity. Before Lance’s eyes, Adam shifts uncomfortably, seeming unsure if to blush or run before the curious mountain of a Galra. Ultimately, the dutiful Altean takes a deep breath and approaches, letting a bit of pink fade in beneath his green scales. Interesting.

Lance turns to Adam, addressing him in Altean. " _Did you check the guards? I'm almost certain-"_

 _"Yes. One of them is a Listener... Regardless, your Majesty, I don't think even you could-_ "

" _II could. But I absolutely will **not**. Listener or no Listener. Can you take care of it?_" Lance watches the Altean think, green scales flashing with the intensity of his thoughts.

" _I think this particular Listener has an elderly mother in need of care. Perhaps he and I can come to an understanding. I'm sure he wouldn't want anything to happen to her._ "

Lance grits his teeth. He nods. He doesn't enjoy the shadier aspects of his status. But sometimes, unsavory things must be done. _"Do it. It is the lesser evil. Ensure, if you can, that he benefits should he comply. positive reinforcement is best."_

Adam nods, opening his datapad and making a _note.“I'll take care of it during the banquet."_ Adam switches to Common, addressing Lance and his guests. "We’re beginning in just a few doboshes. As Prince Lancel may have mentioned, you will be subjected to... _comments_... for the rest of the night. I advise you _not_ to throttle anyone. I already have enough to worry about without having to clean _that_ up.”

“They know... We’ll see what happens,” Lance murmured. "It depends on the courtiers."

“Prince Lancel, _please_. I’m begging you. If King Alfor-”

“Father knows where the blame lies when I misbehave, and it is never with you.” Lance chuckles, placing a hand on the Altean’s shoulder. “I promise I will endure.”

Adam relaxes, but only slightly. The poor man doesn’t have it easy.

“Prince Lancel.” Lance stiffens, turning to face his father. “It is time to take our places.” Behind him, Adam mutters something about indecency and rushing. Thank the stars Lance can always count on him. Lance takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Right. Adam, please ensure my-” Lance grimaces. “- _our_ room is ready. And speak to Hunk about providing our guests with food that won’t make them want to kill us all.” Adam smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Both of those things were done this morning, your Majesty.” Adam looks disgustingly pleased with himself.

“I never get to give any useful orders around here,” Lance grumbles, falling into line behind his fathers, then his sister.

“Of course you do, your Majesty. Just not to me.” Adam smirks, not noticing Shiro’s intrigue, the way his gray eyes follow his every move. Lance scoffs and sticks his tongue out at his advisor-

“Prince Lancel, _behave_.”

“Sorry, Father.” Lance quietly folds his hands behind him at the base of his spine, not returning his sister’s sympathetic smile.

He does, however, notice that his clowning brings a smile to his soon-to-be-spouse's face. That's something, at least.


End file.
